Page 20 of The Burdened Duke (Willenshires #4)

The first few fat drops of rain started to fall as they neared the bottom of the hill.

Lavinia had kept a close eye on the duke, making sure that he was safe and well. It had occurred to her, more than once, that perhaps she’d been a little too hasty, strong-arming him into riding a horse before he was ready.

Her doubts had been put to rest fairly quickly. It was clear that the duke, despite his fears and misgivings, was in fact a good rider. Muscle memory for a thing like that tended to remain. The mare was a steady, good horse, and William sat well in his saddle. Their descent was much slower than their ascent, with William gripping the reins a little tighter than before, his face pale. Lavinia kept pace with him, talking easily and lightly about everything and nothing, mostly to distract him from his own fears, which were doubtless clamouring for attention.

He managed well, straight-backed and clearly nervous, but keeping his composure and keeping control of the reins.

For a first ride, she thought wryly, we certainly started out in a hurry. Perhaps I should have only let him sit on the horse, and get used to that, before we galloped up a hill.

She wanted to laugh. It had worked, though, hadn’t it?

Back in the courtyard, the groom waited, arms folded and his lips pressed tight in disapproval.

“I thought you wanted me to accompany you, your Grace,” he said, as soon as they were within earshot, clearly annoyed. “You didn’t wait. I was concerned about you, your Grace. Anything could have happened.”

William had the grace to look embarrassed. “I am sorry, John. We ought to have waited. Next time, I will, I promise.”

“The fault was mine,” Lavinia confessed, leaping nimbly down. “I hurried his Grace away. I apologise, as well.”

The groom looked a little mollified. “As you say, your Grace, your ladyship.”

A gong rang out distantly in the house. Wincing, Lavinia turned to William.

“I had better go in. My mother might have noticed my absence. She’ll worry, I think.”

He nodded, something odd in his face that she could not quite identify. She had caught him looking at her several times during their ride and convinced herself that it was only to see what she was doing, so that he might copy her.

Now, it seemed… well, she thought it might be something else. Warmth spread through her chest.

The moment was ruined by the groom coughing pointedly.

“Shall I take the horses in, your Grace?”

William blinked, seeming to recover himself. “Yes, yes, of course. Thank you, John.”

Smiling nervously, Lavinia handed over Stepper’s reins and turned towards the house. A movement at an upper window caught her attention, but aside from the flick of a dove-grey skirt, she could not see who had been looking down at her, or even if they had seen her or not. Perhaps it was just a servant passing by.

Lavinia bit her lip, an uneasy feeling starting up in her gut. She put her head down and began to walk faster. If she hurried, she might get inside before the rain started in earnest.

She was not quite correct.

A mere ten feet from the steps, the heavens truly opened, forcing Lavinia to sprint the remaining distance, her shawl held over her head. She stumbled inside, panting for breath, flushed with the exercise and her own adventure, wanting to laugh aloud.

“Lavinia!”

She flinched at her mother’s voice.

“Oh, Mama. I did not see you there.”

Lady Brennon stood in the hallway, wearing a neat little morning-dress of blue velvet. It clashed with her face, which was crimson.

“Where have you been ?” she hissed. “Imagine my consternation when I discovered you were gone from your bed! Were you riding? You were, weren’t you? Oh, you wretched girl. You are so thoughtless!”

“I’m sorry, Mama. Have I missed breakfast?”

“Yes, and the Dowager has decided that all of us ladies will gather in the morning-room and spend a quiet morning together, on account of the rain. Your absence is conspicuous, let me tell you. Go on in at once.”

“I need to change!” Lavinia glanced down at her damp dress. It wasn’t too crumpled, and she couldn’t see any noticeable stains. Her hair, however, was another story.

Lady Brennon gave a huff of annoyance and started shouting at her daughter.

“You can’t,” she said shortly. “There’s no time.”

Using her fingers, she was able to comb Lavinia’s hair into some semblance of a style, repining the loose locks and twisting it back into something neater.

“That will have to do,” she murmured, casting a disapproving look over Lavinia’s rumpled gown. “You smell of horse, but not overwhelmingly so. The flush in your cheeks is quite scandalous, but I’m sure it will subside soon enough. Don’t let anyone near enough to smell you. Go on, in you go, in you go!”

Lavinia was hustled along the corridors and abruptly shoved into a large, airy room, full of women. Some ladies sat reading by the window, others sewed on the long sofa, and still more clustered around the fireplace and by the refreshments tables, chatting in low, sedate voices. A good number of them looked up as Lady Brennon and Lavinia walked in.

“Goodness,” came a familiar voice which Lavinia was starting to heartily dislike, “what a sluggard you are, Miss Brookford! We’d quite given you up for lost.”

She forced a smile. “Good morning, Miss Bainbridge. I must confess myself quite tired this morning. I am sorry not to join you all sooner.”

Miss Bainbridge came rustling forward, and Lavinia’s smile dropped as she noticed her gown. Her dove-grey gown.

She met Miss Bainbridge’s eye and saw something flicker there that she did not like.

The moment crackled, seeming to go on forever, before Lady Brennon yanked Lavinia unceremoniously away, dragging her over to a quiet, low stool in the corner of the room.

“Sit here and try not to speak to anyone,” Lady Brennon hissed. “You can change before luncheon, before we go out to the Assembly Rooms, but it’ll look odd if you change before. Sit here for half an hour and then excuse yourself.”

Lavinia bit her lip and said nothing. It seemed that no response was needed, really. Her mother rustled away, joining the dowager duchess on a two-seater sofa. The soft undertone of voices started up again, and Lavinia shifted, getting ready to sink into boredom for a while. Something caught her eye, and she surreptitiously bent over to peer at her dress.

Her heart sank. There was a large, fist-shaped splash of mud on her skirt, just above her hem. It stood out on the plain fabric, and Lavinia hastily arranged the material in a way that ought to hide it. The stain was too large, however, and any reckless movement would display the stain.

Questions would naturally follow. Where had she gone? A walk? A ride? Who with? Alone ? Oh, shocking, shocking!

The truth would be worse. Not alone, but with the duke? That would destroy Lavinia’s reputation forever.

Half an hour, she told herself, glancing at the clock. I can manage half an hour, surely.

On cue, a particular young woman detached herself from the group and headed towards Lavinia, smiling in a rather malicious way.

“Why, Miss Brookford, here you are sitting out of the way! How dull for you!” Miss Bainbridge cooed, revealing white, sharp teeth. “I shall sit by you.”

There was really nothing for Lavinia to say to that. She smiled tightly, cursing her luck, as Miss Bainbridge pulled up a chair beside her, shaking out her dove-grey skirts.

“It’s not like you, I think,” Miss Bainbridge said at last, thoughtfully, “to lie in so late. That’s what I thought, at least. Imagine my surprise when I saw you rushing up to the house in the rain.”

“It was you at the window, then,” Lavinia said tightly. At least they weren’t going to pretend to be friends, then. She was relieved. It was exhausting.

“It was me, yes,” Miss Bainbridge sighed. “I hate all this rivalry, you know. I always imagined myself above those ladies who claw out the eyes of other women in pursuit of a man. I thought it rather demeaning.”

“I couldn’t agree more. And yet, here we are.”

Miss Bainbridge shrugged. “I wish to be a duchess. The Duke is a fine man and will make a fine husband, I think. I believe I mentioned earlier that we have an understanding, and that was something which I had to organise myself. We women must take matters into our own hands, dear friend. Not an unfamiliar idea to you, I’m sure. Our world is not designed for women. Everything we want, we must carve out for ourselves. I think perhaps you understand, Miss Brookford.”

“I am hardly a threat,” Lavinia snapped. “My sister is perhaps more beautiful than either of us, but she is not interested in the duke. I am not more charming, or more accomplished, or more fascinating than you and I am certainly poorer.”

“It is vulgar to talk of money, my dear.”

“Vulgar, yes, but let’s not pretend that the subject does not occupy everybody’s mind, all the time.”

Miss Bainbridge smiled. “Ah. That is where you are wrong. Those who have money do not feel the need to think about it very often. You betray your breeding, Miss Brookford.”

Lavinia bit her lip. “Why are you here, Miss Bainbridge? Why are you speaking to me at all?”

Miss Bainbridge sighed. “I wanted to be open with you.”

“I don’t believe you’ve ever been open with anyone in your life.”

The woman gave a genteel chuckle. “Goodness, my dear, put away your claws, won’t you? I have never pretended to honesty, and I don’t intend to start now. Tell me, how did you get that nasty stain on your hem? Not pacing the carpets in your bedroom, I warrant.”

Lavinia clapped a hand over the stain on her skirt, rather guiltily, no doubt. It was too late, of course.

“I was walking,” she lied, a little pleased with the smoothness with which she said it. Miss Bainbridge, naturally, was not fooled. She pursed her lips in a theatrical frown, tilting her head to one side.

“Is that so ? Well, I heard quite a different story.”

Lavinia closed her eyes momentarily. It was clear, then. Miss Bainbridge knew. The woman took her silence for an invitation to continue, and did so, with merciless clarity.

“You went for a ride this morning. Alone. And then the duke joined you, and you rode together. Also alone.”

“The groom…”

“Was left behind,” Miss Bainbridge interrupted curtly. “You were alone. It’s a shocking circumstance, and one that would ruin you. If it were not for the stain it would leave on the duke’s reputation, I should make the story known at once. I should have no scruples.”

“Don’t speak to me of your scruples ,” Lavinia snapped, anger boiling up inside her. Across the room, she saw Gillian’s head lift, tuned in to her sister’s voice.

“Keep your voice down,” Miss Bainbridge hissed, as if reading her thoughts.

“You intend to expose me, do you not? Well, then, you ought to do it. Go on, then. Announce it right this moment. It’s true, you can’t tarnish me without affecting the duke, and I daresay your doting parents won’t want you to marry a man with a stain. Just like you wouldn’t want to wear a dress with a stain like mine. So, go on. I dare you, Miss Bainbridge.”

Miss Bainbridge’s face, always pale, was turning a mottled red. She clearly had not expected the bluff to be called.

“You are shameless,” she hissed. “Riding alone, unchaperoned, and then walking into the duke’s home looking like a blowsy plain woman. I should be ashamed if I were you.”

“But you are not me, are you?”

Miss Bainbridge leaned closer; eyes narrowed. “I could drop a word in the dowager’s ear. I might suggest that you are trying to catch her son, like the shameless flirt you are.”

“If I am trying to secure his affections, then you are even worse than I,” Lavinia responded staunchly. “You’re getting rather desperate, my dear.”

“He would never marry you,” Miss Bainbridge spat. Her customary composure was deserting her, but Lavinia could not find it in herself to be triumphant. “Regardless of any feelings he might have, you are not the woman for him. You’ll never be a duchess. He is informally engaged to me , do you hear? Betrothed! There will be an announcement soon, but for now, his honour will keep him by my side.”

Lavinia flinched as if she’d been slapped. Her initial response was to call Miss Bainbridge a liar. She almost did, but then she looked straight into the woman’s face and saw truth there.

“I see,” Lavinia heard herself say, the words wrenched out of her.

Miss Bainbridge smiled tightly. “His pride will keep him cleaved to me if nothing else. You are not the woman for him.”

Lavinia bit her lip, hard. “Perhaps I am not. But I should never want to marry a man who could not put aside his pride and his sense of station to marry the woman he loved. If he truly loved her, of course.”

Miss Bainbridge blinked, seemingly taken aback. “How differently we feel,” she remarked, voice sinking to a curious murmur. Now that the news was shared, the unofficial engagement on the cusp of becoming official , it seemed that a weight had lifted from her shoulders. She seemed more interested than angry now, eyeing Lavinia as if she were an animal in a cage. “Aren’t you going to ask me whether I intend to speak to the dowager about you or not?”

Lavinia picked at her skirts. “Frankly, I could not care less. Speak to her, or don’t. But if you have your say, I can assure you that I’ll have mine, too.”

Miss Bainbridge allowed herself a small smile at this, almost as if she were genuinely amused at Lavinia. It was infuriating, and Lavinia had to swallow down the desire to slap the wretched woman across the face.

Abruptly, a shadow fell across them, making both women jump. Gillian stood there, her thin slippers and soft gown making no sound as they slid across the carpet.

How much did she hear? Lavinia thought, with a pang of worry. This was not Gillian’s concern. She should not be worrying about her sister being blackmailed by Miss Bainbridge, of all people.

“Lavinia,” she said, her voice a trifle unsteady, “I’m feeling a little tired. Would you take me upstairs to rest before we go to the Assembly rooms, please?”

Lavinia frowned, taking in her sister’s bright eyes and smooth face.

The little clever girl isn’t tired at all, she thought, biting back a smile. She’s giving me an excuse to leave.

She only nodded, getting to her feet. “Of course, Gillian. Come, take my arm.”

Gillian hesitated, glancing down at Miss Bainbridge.

“Are you quite well, Miss Bainbridge?”

The woman flinched, glancing warily up at Gillian. “Of course.”

“Oh. It’s just that you look rather tired and unwell. You are looking remarkably sallow today. Perhaps you ought to rest a little, too. I find a short lie-down before an activity remarkably refreshing.”

With that, Gillian turned on her heel, head high, dragging Lavinia behind her.

“Wretched woman,” Lavinia heard her sister say under her breath. “How dare she speak to you like that?”

The last thing Lavinia saw before the door closed behind them, shutting them safely out into the hall, was Miss Bainbridge furtively lifting a hand to her cheeks, pinching them to bring colour into them.

The two sisters burst into laughter.